


When I See Your Face

by CrazedPanda



Series: Home Is Whenever I'm With You [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Omegaverse, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 14:32:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda/pseuds/CrazedPanda
Summary: Next instalment in the 'Home Is Whenever I'm With You' series. You might want to read 'I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In' first, if you haven't already. A/B/O AU. Things might not be as rosy as they first appeared, as Y/N and Sam continue to explore their new relationship.Much thanks to the brilliant Toscarosetti and Edge_ of_clairvoyance for being amazing for encouragement,  bouncing ideas off of, and providing excellent beta services.





	When I See Your Face

**Author's Note:**

> Since these chapters are going to be so different (ranging from fluff to angst to smut and various combinations) I figured I'd make them separate works in the same series, so maybe people who don't prefer a certain content can still enjoy the other chapters. If you like this series and want to be updated for the new chapters, I would recommend bookmarking or subscribing to the series itself; doing so to any individual work will not give you any notification when a new one gets posted.

During the next several weeks, keeping an eye out for Sam on Thursdays became second nature. It wouldn't happen every week, and they hadn't been able to have any noteworthy interactions, just that smile and gentle “Hey, Y/N,” - he somehow always made sure he got her without making it obvious he was doing it - and she would reply in kind and take his order. 

This Thursday she was particularly hoping to see him because he hadn't been in the last two weeks in a row. It was a bit early yet for possible Sam sightings - she was just tidying up so she could take her lunch - when she saw him. 

He smiled at her, but something was a little off about it and she felt her heart stutter in concern. “Hey, Sam, is -" she glanced around the mostly empty shop, and lowered her voice, “- is everything okay?” The question was a little unprofessional, but she couldn't help herself.

“Yes, of course, I get to have lunch at my favorite coffee place.” he was trying for light and joking, and almost pulled it off, but her instincts were still telling her there was something not quite right. 

She made the split decision to drop a hint in the hopes he would pick it up, but left it up to him in case he would rather be alone. “Perfect! I get to serve my favorite customer right before I take _*my*_ lunch.”

He seemed genuinely hopeful at this news, and it was his turn to subtly glance around and lower his voice, “Would you mind having lunch with me again?”

“Not at all, what can I get you?”

He looked over the lunch menu undecidedly and she interjected, “The strawberry almond salad is really good - that's what I was going to have, actually.” 

He brightened at that and his small smile was the closest to normal he'd managed so far. “I'll take two of those, then.” 

She gave him a mock reproving look, but wasn't going to turn down a free meal. She gave him the price and nodded toward the corner as she rang him up, “Meet you in the same booth as before?” 

“Perfect, see you in a minute.” She scrutinized him as he walked away. She may have just been imagining it, but he seemed to carry himself a little more hunched, and move just a bit slower, than usual.

She brought their salads on a tray so she could carry extra vinaigrette dressing and two cups. She carefully set it in the center of the table before scooching in. 

He eyed the purplish drinks curiously. “What's this?” 

“Fresh berry lemonade. You bought the salads and I thought they would go nicely. I could get you something else if you don't like it . . .”

Sam shook his head, “I'm sure I'll enjoy it, thank you.”

They started in on their salads in silence for a minute before she decided to broach the subject as delicately as she could. “Would it help to talk about it?”

His eyes searched hers, “Uh, I'm not . . . I don't really . . .” He trailed off. 

“Sam,” she leaned forward in her chair and her hand moved unbidden to touch his, but she set it down on the table a few inches short. “You don't have to tell me anything. If you want to, I'm here. If you'd rather we talk about something else, we can do that, and if you don't feel like talking at all and just wanted someone to sit with, I would like to. Whatever you need.”

She was rewarded by seeing some of the tension leaving his shoulders and face. “Thank you, Y/N, for being so understanding. Here's what I _can_ tell you: most of it's to do with my job; I can't really talk about that part. . .”

Her eyes widened, but she tried not to let her curiosity show and after a beat he continued, “Let's just say, ‘rough week at the office’.” He landed a passable smile which she returned. 

“Well, you know I'm familiar with those.” She was getting the feeling they weren't in the same ballpark, but if he wanted to downplay it, she could humor him for now. 

“The rest, is . . .” His eyes dropped to his salad; he picked at it as he continued. 

“Every once in awhile I get a new peek at something that happened to my brother when we were kids. He's older and my dad . . . had his issues. He made my brother feel like he was responsible for me, and put a lot on his shoulders - more than a kid his age should have had to deal with. I know my dad was doing the best he could. Raising two boys on his own after Mom died, wasn't easy on him. But Dean, he's still dealing with some of the repercussions of all that. And to top it off he hides stuff from me, tries to shelter me from the worst of it. And, I guess I just wish he could talk to me about what’s going on - if I had known at the time maybe I could have been there for him; been a better brother, I don't know.”

He was quiet for a few seconds and she tentatively summarized “So, the fact that Dean had to go through that is already upsetting enough, and then on top of that he hides it from you.”

“I mean, yeah. It's pretty much a pattern with him. Part of it is pride I think, he doesn't want to admit he could use his little brother's help, but part of it is that he almost believes it was okay - everything that happened, whatever dad did, or said, or any other crappy thing that happens to him - like he thinks he deserves it. And I don't know where to begin to help with any of it.”

He sighed and she found herself mirroring him in sympathy. “Wow, that's a lot.”

“I'm sorry, it wasn't right to dump all that on you.” 

“Oh no, Sam, please! I asked you to, you have to be able to talk to someone. You were there for me when I was having a rotten day anyway, I can at least listen about yours. You know it's not on you to fix everything, but I'm thinking there are some things you can do to help - ways you can be there for him and support him and make sure he knows it's safe to talk to you. It's hard when it sounds like he's still stuck in his role as your big brother, and he still feels like he has to shelter you. I'm assuming you've tried to tell him you're a big boy and you're able and willing to help shoulder the weight?”

Sam rolled his eyes, his exasperation clearly directed at his brother, “Yeah, a time or two.”

“You know it's not your fault, right? You were just a kid. It doesn't sound like your brother blames you for what happened . . .”

“No, I think he wishes I just never found out.” 

“It's tricky to balance wanting to help, but not to wanting to do anything that might discourage him from opening up to you next time.” 

“Yeah, and he'll use any excuse to say, ‘See, that's why I never told you!’”

“It doesn't sound like a situation that can be wrapped up neatly in a bow. Besides being there for him to talk to when he's ready, I think you can let your brother know you love him and accept him on a regular basis, and that can chip away at that kind of deep rooted mess, but you can't fully fix it, and I don't think he expects you to. I'm sorry, I'm trying to give advice that you didn't ask for . . .”

“No, that's okay. You're right.” He ran a hand through his hair as if brushing away the somber mood and gave her a real smile, “So, have you read any good books lately?”

She respected his desire for a subject change and returned his smile, “Yes! I just started the third book in this series by Cornelia Funke - have you ever read the Inkheart trilogy?”

“Mmm, I don't think so . . .”

“Well, first off, you need to fix that, it's incredible! One of my all time favorites, and she's one of my favorite authors. Anyway, _this_ series is called the Reckless series or the Mirrorworld series and it's great. She really sucks you into the story and her characters are very lifelike. She likes to write fantasy books, but based on the old Grimm fairy tales, so almost horror-esque in parts.”

He smirked as if reminded of a private joke, but looked intrigued, “I'll have to look for it. We have a lot of the same tastes in books; chances are good I'll enjoy it.”

Y/N had to stifle a groan as Terri rounded the corner, eyes widening as they settled on Sam and her. 

“If you think you've had a long enough break, I could use your help,” Terri’s polite tone was forced, wouldn't want to be rude in front of a customer after all, but the edge of annoyance was apparent.

Sam stood smoothly, his cup and plate suddenly in his hands, “I do apologize for keeping your employee,” he faked a look at her name tag for Terri’s benefit, “Y/N provided me with an excellent recommendation - the strawberry almond salad was excellent - and I was just stopping to thank her when I pulled her into a conversation. She was just humoring a bothersome customer, I'm afraid.”

Terri was sputtering, “Uh, well, nonsense, of course Y/N was happy to be of assistance to a valued customer, I'm sure.”

“I won't take up any more of your time. Thank you, and I hope to be able to have lunch here again sometime.”

“Yes, Have a good day, stop by again!”

Through it all, Y/N was blown away with how effortlessly Sam had thought on his feet like that, but also she felt a prickling at her scalp and arms. On the surface Sam's voice was the epitome of formal and polite, but there was this undercurrent of warning. It spoke of hidden danger, but it somehow didn't make her afraid in the slightest. It almost made her feel more safe . . . protected, maybe because it wasn't directed at her, but at her unreasonable manager. She filed it all away for future perusal. 

As Sam reached the door he turned to drop his dishes in the bin and, out of Terri’s line of sight, flashed her one of his sun eclipsing smiles and was gone. Terri turned toward her with a broad hint that the drawers needed to be counted for midday and scurried back behind the counter leaving her to finish clearing their table in peace. 

The next few weeks passed normally. Sam appeared most Thursdays and they shared a smile. Sometimes they got to exchange a little small talk if the shop wasn't busy and Terri was nowhere in sight. 

It had been a long Monday and Y/N was ready to go home. Her lazy coworker had ditched her to take a smoke break, but honestly, she was probably getting the closing list done faster without her. She saw that the full trash bags had been left by the door. “Really?! Couldn't have taken them with you when you went out back to smoke and play on your phone? That's fine, I got it,” she snarked.

She stepped out into the mostly dark alley and started at the sight in the shadows by the dumpster. Her brain was having trouble interpreting what she was looking at. A large shapeless - something - on the ground was moving in bizarre jerky motions and muffled squeaks seemed to be emanating from it. Something rose up at her gasp and the danger finally clicked. She screamed and threw the heavy trash bags at the figure before stepping back into the shop and slamming the door. The whatever-it-was fled, but she didn't stop or slow her movements as she hastily locked the door and dialed 911.

Dawn's light was peeking through the buildings and bathed the police vehicles in a rosy glow. The officers had taken an initial statement last night, but they had not been able to find any sign indicating the current whereabouts of the attacker. So they were back, having cordoned off the alleyway behind the coffee shop, and wanted to question her further. She did the best she could answering all their inquiries and remembering the incident last night with as much detail as she could. 

She honestly was hoping she'd wake up and find out it was a crazy dream. Her coworker was alive, recuperating at a nearby hospital with some blood loss and lacerations to the neck. Everyone kept indicating she'd done something brave or heroic, but she didn't feel that way; she'd ran and locked herself inside, leaving her coworker bleeding on the asphalt. 

She and the officer questioning her turned as a figure approached behind them. Her jaw fell open at the sight of Sam in a suit. He was mouthwatering; if you looked up “sight for sore eyes” in the dictionary, she was certain there would be a picture of him there.

“Officer. Sam Daltrey, FBI. This is my partner, Townshend. Your guy from last night sounds like a perp my office has been tracking for some time. We'll need access to the crime scene, any evidence you've uncovered so far, and witnesses.”

He nodded toward her and the policeman deferred to him, backing away mumbling for Sam to let him know if he needed anything. 

“FBI?” She gave voice to the thing currently at the top of her running ‘wtf list,’ feeling like she was going to fall apart at any moment, but Sam's hand was suddenly on her arm, grounding her. 

His face was grim, but his tone was gentle, “It's okay. You're okay. Come sit down.” He led her to a nearby booth and sat opposite her and for a wild second she wanted to forget the circumstances and ask if he'd read any good books lately. 

His partner took a position a few yards away from them like a bodyguard, and appeared as if he was studiously ignoring their conversation. She knew he probably wasn't, but she appreciated the effort to make her feel more comfortable. 

“Y/N, can you tell me everything that you remember about last night?”

She went over everything again. She hesitated before delving into the flashes she thought she'd caught of glowing eyes and far too many teeth. She knew they were most likely the results of her terror causing her to imagine things, and she felt mildly embarrassed, but she left nothing out. Sam got a vacant stony look on his face that she'd never seen before and it made her more nervous than probably anything else that had happened to her since she saw the thing in the alley - person, Y/N, it was just a sick, or drugged, or messed up human being, nothing more. 

“Thank you for your time, ma'am, our office will be in touch.”

Wait, what? Ma'am? She felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “S- Sam?”

He had started to turn away, but he paused, meeting her gaze with a somber look in his eyes, features carefully blank. His voice was low, but as emotionless as his face, “I'm very sorry you had to witness something so distressing. We'll take care of it, I promise, you don't have anything to worry about.”

Everything was off, she had never felt anything but safe around Sam and now she felt - nothing - and it was freaking her out. She tried to keep her voice quiet, but she was sure it was easy to hear the blossoming panic. “Sam!”

“I'm very sorry. I assure you we won't be bothering you again, ma'am.”

The foreign-sounding flat voice uttering those terrible words stopped her cold and all she could do was stare at Sam's retreating back. His partner hadn't moved and was looking between them now with an inscrutable look on his face. When Sam reached the door he paused and she thought maybe he was going to say something to make sense of - everything, but he only murmured, “Let's go, Dean. We got work to do.”

His partner snorted at that, but followed after him. The door closed and Y/N’s mind was a blur. What the hell had just happened?!


End file.
